Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(66)

“Both, I guess. My kinfolk take some getting used to. Most of ’em have always lived within ten miles of Toad Suck Park.”

“I won’t have any problem getting along with them, and … Did you say ‘Toad Suck’?”

“That’s where we’re headed. Toad Suck, Arkansas. People call it a town but it’s really an unincorporated community.”

“Where did the name come from?”

“The story is that back in the old days, the steamboat crews would hole up at the tavern and wait for the Arkansas River to rise. Local folk said those rivermen would suck on a bottle till they swelled up like toads.”

Jason grinned, turning onto I–40 to head north.

“There’s another story,” Priscilla continued, “that the original French settlers called the area Tout Sucre, which means ‘all sugar.’ Over the years people kept pronouncing it different ways until it turned into Toad Suck.”

It was easy to understand why the settlers had first called it Tout Sucre—the land was abundant and fertile, hills covered with hardwood trees, valleys rich with alluvial soil. Forests of sugar maples were starting to turn, their branches clouded with fire-colored leaves. Scores of creeks cut from the Ozark plateau through the river valley and down to the Ouachita Mountains.

“The Fiveashes have lived in Toad Suck for as long as anyone can remember,” Priscilla said. “They work hard, go to church, and send their kids to school. They shop at Dollar Tree because they don’t want to get dressed up for Walmart. They think eating local means shoot your own squirrels. And when my kin start talking, you’ll wish they came with subtitles.”

“There won’t be any problem,” Jason said, mildly surprised by the defensive note in her voice. “You know I’m not a snob.”

“Yes, sir. All’s I’m saying is, you thought I had rough edges when I started working at Inari. Well, compared to the rest of the family, I’m Princess Di.”

“Understood,” Jason said, inwardly amused. “There won’t be any problem, Priscilla.”

She nodded, still looking troubled. “You’re not going to meet my mama, by the way. Ever since Daddy died, she wanted nothing to do with the craft. We’re going to Granny Fiveash’s double-wide. You’re going to meet her and my great-aunt Bean and my uncle Cletus. Cletus won’t help with the spell-casting, of course, since he’s a man.”

“Is there such a thing as a male witch? A warlock?”

“No, that’s just a myth. It says in the Malleus Maleficarum that—”

“What’s that?”

“A witch-hunting book written by a Catholic priest in the fourteen hundreds. It says the devil tempted women by sending handsome fallen angels to seduce them … and the women became his handmaidens. That’s how witches were started. Hypothetically. But there’s nothing satanic about the craft now.”

“Does it bother you to think about the witch’s bane?” Jason found himself asking. “It must. You must worry about falling in love with someone.”

Priscilla looked disconcerted, her color rising. It was rare for them to have such a personal conversation. “Actually, I don’t. My whole life, I’ve been single-minded about getting away from Toad Suck. Getting educated, working my tail off … no time for romance.” She looked thoughtful as she added, “Even though I don’t live here anymore, it still feels like I’m trying to get away. I’ve always wanted something different. Not sure what. Money, I guess. Mama says I’ll never be happy till I have enough money to burn a wet mule.”

“No,” Jason said quietly. “When people are driven to make a lot of money, it’s never about the money.”

Priscilla fell silent as she pondered that.

After a couple of minutes, Jason said, “Don’t get worked up over this spell-casting. Just do your best.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m the one who has to get it right. Magic isn’t like mathematics where there’s a right answer. Sometimes it’s a choice between a lot of bad answers. Or worse, a lot of right-sounding answers.”

Jason tried to think of something that might lessen the pressure for her. “Priscilla, do you know what the most difficult shot in golf is?”

“The windmill,” she said decisively.

“The what?… No, I’m not talking about Putt-Putt. I mean real golf. The most difficult shot is the long bunker shot.” Glancing at her blank expression, Jason said, “When the ball gets stuck in a sand pit. You have two ways to handle it. You can either pitch it or blast it. Pitching is a short, low-risk shot, just to get it out of the pit. Blasting it with a long power swing ends in either glory or total defeat.”

“So you’re saying when we try this magic spell tonight, you want to take the big risk.”

“No. Play it safe. It’s too important to risk everything. Just go for the short pitch, get me out of the damn pit. If you can buy me a few years with Justine, I’ll make them count for a lifetime.”

Priscilla stared at him in wonder. “You’re in love with her.”

“Of course I am. What did you think?”

“I thought you were just shining her on to get the spellbook.”

He shot her an affronted glance. “Why is it so hard to believe I might fall in love with someone?”